Angel
by Nicole Berman
Summary: Scully deals with her diagnosis. (Set between "Leonard Betts" and "Memento Mori".)


Scully sighed to herself as she stared at the phone. Her mother would be asleep, seeing as it was nearly midnight. Mulder was off chasing some urban legend or another and his cell phone just kept ringing. Bill....well, she never could talk to her brother. So Scully did the next best thing. She broke open a bottle of Diet Pepsi and dialed the familiar number. "3170 West 53rd Road," she said quickly. "Uh huh, apartment 402. See you in twenty minutes."  
  
Twenty-five minutes later, the doorbell rang. Scully opened the door and forced a smile onto her face. She handed the girl a twenty-dollar bill as she took the pizza box and set it on the coffee table.  
  
"Here's your change," the girl said with a bright smile. "Uhm, if you don't mind, could I please use your phone? I have to call my boss and let him know that I'm done for the night."  
  
"Sure," Scully said, opening the door wider and stepping back. She pointed towards the phone on the end table. "It's right there."  
  
"Thanks so much," the young woman murmured as she dialed the restaurant. "Bob? It's Megan. I just made my last delivery." She paused for a second. "All right, see you tomorrow night. Bye." She hung up and turned to Scully. "Thanks again. I hate using pay phones in the dark."  
  
"That's not exactly safe," Scully agreed. "Too many creeps out there."  
  
"Amen," Megan smiled. She stopped halfway out the front door. "Listen," she said softly, in an almost apologetic tone. "I don't mean to butt in, but you look awful. Are you okay?"  
  
Scully shrugged sardonically. "I'll be fine," she said, her hand resting on the door. "I always am."  
  
Megan tilted her head to one side. "You have cancer, don't you?" she said suddenly.  
  
Scully's eyes narrowed and frosted over palpably. "Is this some kind of practical joke?" she asked, peering into the hallway for someone, anyone, who would've set this up. "How the hell did you know that?" she asked angrily.  
  
"No, no joke," Megan said quickly, holding up her hands in surrender. "It's just...well, I have it, too. And...I guess I just have a knack for sensing these things, y'know?"  
  
Scully felt her heart start to ache at the thought of this woman, still a child, really, facing the horrors of cancer. "You do?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She stared into Megan's eye for some sort of confirmation that she wasn't being conned.  
  
"Yup," Megan said softly, leaning against the doorframe. "Breast cancer. I've been doing chemo and radiation treatments for almost a year." She gestured to the bandana she wore. "The only thing that bothers me about it is that I look *awful*. My friend Jen was right, I don't have the right shape head to go bald."  
  
"I'm so sorry," was all Scully could say. She felt a tear sneaking its way to the corner of her eye, and she bit back the wave of sadness.  
  
"It's okay," Megan assured her. "Everything will work out. I'm sure of it," she added triumphantly, as if the cancer were already beaten. "Listen, do you want to talk? I don't have anywhere to be."  
  
Scully started to shake her head but changed her mind. "Are you sure?" she asked hesitantly. "I'm not the best company lately."  
  
"I'm sure," Megan said. She followed Scully back into the apartment, shutting the door behind her. "I could use a good chat, and you look like you need someone to talk to."  
  
Scully sank down onto the couch, tucking her legs underneath her, Indian-style. "You must be a psychic," she said with a tiny smile. "I was just trying to think of who I could call. Everyone I know is either out of town or asleep at this hour."  
  
"I'm not psychic," Megan giggled, "I can just sense things--feelings and stuff." She leaned back in the overstuffed chair and rested her head on one upturned palm.  
  
Scully opened the pizza box and took out a slice, setting it on a paper plate. "Do you want a piece?" she offered.  
  
Megan wrinkled her nose slightly. "No, thanks. I see too much of it all day at work, can't stand the stuff." She spotted the bottle of soda and pointed to it. "If you don't mind, though, I'll grab myself some pop."  
  
"Sure," Scully said. "Let me get you a glass." She stood up and turned toward the kitchen.  
  
"Sit, sit," Megan insisted, jumping up. "I can get it myself. Which cabinet?"  
  
"Third from the sink, on the left," Scully called.  
  
"Got it!" Megan came back a minute later with a glass full of ice and poured herself some soda. She sat back and took a sip, staring at Scully with curiosity in her green eyes.  
  
Scully stared back for a moment, mesmerized. They were the brightest, clearest green she'd ever seen, with little flecks of silver within the color. After a few seconds, Scully broke the girl's gaze and stared down silently at her hands.  
  
"When did you find out?" Megan asked, fiddling with the rim of the glass.  
  
"That I had cancer?" Scully paused to count. "About three weeks ago."  
  
Megan nodded understandingly. "I remember how hard the first couple of weeks were. I didn't even want to think about it the first two days after I was diagnosed. Then I started to think there must've been some mistake--I'm too young to have breast cancer, that's something old women get."  
  
"I didn't go through denial," Scully explained, toying with the crust of her pizza. "I skipped right to...well, I don't know what you'd call it really. Anger, maybe? Self-destruction?"  
  
"What did you do?" Megan asked, the inquisitive tone in her voice encouraging Scully to continue.  
  
Scully giggled softly. "I got a tattoo."  
  
"You?" Megan's eyes widened. "No way," she said emphatically. "I don't believe it." She glanced over Scully's blue silk pajamas, impeccable hair--even at one in the morning. "You do *not* have a tattoo."  
  
"I do, too!" Scully stood up and lifted the back of her pajama top with one hand, pulling the bottoms down slightly with the other. "See?"  
  
"Wow," Megan whistled. "That's gorgeous, what is it?"  
  
"It's the Celtic symbol for life, death and rebirth." Scully laughed hollowly. "Ironic, isn't it?"  
  
Megan shrugged. "I don't think so. I think each of us is reborn at least a dozen times in one lifetime." At Scully's puzzled look, she asked, "Haven't you ever experienced something that just...took your life off in a whole new direction? Something that completely changed you in whatever way, made you a new person?"  
  
Scully started to reply negatively, then stopped and thought about it briefly. Joining the FBI...that was what Megan was talking about. The day she'd become Mulder's partner, her entire world had been tilted on its side. "I guess so. I switched careers after my thirtieth birthday," Scully elaborated.  
  
"Oh. From what to what?" Megan asked, sipping her drink.  
  
"I was in medical school, and right after graduation, I was recruited by the FBI."  
  
"Wow, you're a fed?" Megan's eyes widened. "Very cool! I always wanted to be in the CIA." She caught herself and grinned. "I mean, I am *going* to apply at the CIA, once I'm better, and I can finish school."  
  
"Great," Scully smiled, a sincere smile that lit up her eyes. "You should go after your dreams. I can honestly say that I don't regret giving up medicine for the Bureau. It's long hours and hard work, but it's very satisfying."   
  
"Wow, you must have a really understanding husband, if he doesn't mind you working all the time." Megan smiled briefly.  
  
"I'm not married," Scully said matter-of-factly. She reached over and took another slice of now-cold pizza.  
  
"Boyfriend?" Megan asked as Scully immediately shook her head. "Girlfriend?" she asked with a grin.  
  
Giggling, Scully replied, "No, none of the above. It's just me, and I like it that way."  
  
"Well, good for you," Megan said, sipping her soda. "I had a boyfriend, Randy. We'd been together for a year when I was diagnosed, but he left me when he found out I had cancer. Guess he just couldn't handle having a girlfriend who might die."  
  
"I guess not," Scully said sadly. "I don't know if I could handle watching someone else go through this. I'm sorry for you, though. That must've been rough."  
  
Megan smiled broadly. "It's okay. The night Randy dumped me, I went over to my best friend Jack's house. We've been friends for six years now, and I can tell him anything. I told him all about Randy and I broke down. He just held me while I cried. When I was done, Jack kissed me and told me that he'd loved me for years, he just couldn't find the right time to tell me."  
  
"Wow," Scully said breathlessly. "That's incredible."  
  
"Yeah," Megan smiled, holding out her left hand so Scully could see the tiny diamond on the platinum band. "We've been together since then, and last month he proposed."  
  
"Fantastic." Scully's eyes were damp with envy.  
  
"It'll happen for you, too. I'm sure of it." Megan's voice was strong with determination, as if she could make it happen just by willing it so.  
  
"Thank you," Scully said softly, forcing back the tears.  
  
Megan noticed the mist in Scully's eyes and changed topics quickly. "So, you're a doctor who works for the FBI. Do you do autopsies?" she asked.  
  
"Sometimes. My partner I and investigate unexplained cases. Kidnappings with no suspects, deaths with seemingly unexplainable motives or means of entry, things like that." Scully shook her head at the oversimplification of what they did. "They're called X-Files."  
  
"Wow," Megan murmured appreciatively. "Who's your partner?"  
  
"His name's Mulder. That's him," Scully said, pointing to the picture on the mantel of Mulder and her from the Bureau's annual Fourth of July picnic the previous year. She couldn't believe she'd actually gotten him to sit for the picture, much less gotten him to smile. But there he was, with the grin that she rarely got to see, but that melted her every time she saw it.  
  
"Mulder. What an interesting name," Megan commented. "His parents must've hated him," she teased.  
  
Scully laughed quietly. "'Mulder' is his last name. His first name is 'Fox', but he *hates* it."  
  
"I can see why." Megan broke her gaze from the picture, where Mulder's arms were wrapped around Scully's waist from behind, holding her tight against him. Scully's hands were over his, her smile beaming brightly. "So is he the reason you don't have a boyfriend?" Megan asked cautiously.  
  
"No," Scully denied. "Mulder and I are just friends."  
  
Megan nodded, hearing her own words thrown back at her. "Okay," she said, letting the topic drop. As they sat there in comfortable silence for a moment, Megan was seized with an idea. She leapt across the room and grabbed Scully's hand, staring at the nails. "How long has it been since you painted your nails?" she asked, her voice serious.  
  
"I don't know. A year, maybe two. Why?" Scully asked, quirking an eyebrow quizically at Megan.  
  
"Oh, that simply will not do. I have a cosmetics case in my car. Give me five minutes to run outside and grab it, and I'll be back," Megan declared, breezing out the door before Scully could answer.  
  
They spent the next few hours giving each other manicures and pedicures. Megan chose a dark purple nail polish for Scully, which she could remove on Sunday night before work...or not, if she were feeling spunky. She braided Scully's hair and they talked. Oh, did they talk. They talked about everything: Brad Pitt versus Harrison Ford ("Harrison, of course," Scully said. "There's nothing sexier than a man with a whip and a fedora."), M&Ms versus Reese's Pieces, silk versus satin and love versus lust. As the paint on their nails began to dry, Scully glanced up at the clock. "Oh, I didn't realize it was so late," she said quietly. "I think we'd both better get some sleep."  
  
Megan eyed the hour hand as if it had betrayed her. "I guess so," she said, her voice tinged with regret. "It's been great," she said, packing the nail polish and supplies. "I really needed this. Thank you."  
  
"No, thank *you*," Scully said softly as Megan reached over and enveloped her in a tight hug. She hugged the young woman tightly against her. "Thank you for reminding me that I'm not alone."  
  
Megan released her with a big smile. "I'll see you next time you order a medium mushroom and green pepper with a thin crust, okay?"  
  
"You bet."  
  
"Good night, Dana. Sleep well," Megan said, turning away with a wink of encouragement.  
  
Scully watched Megan walk down the hall towards the stairs with a tear in her eye. This one she let fall, floating freely down her cheek. Suddenly, something struck her. "How did you know my name?" she called after the girl. "I never told you..." But it was too late. Megan had already vanished from sight.  
  
Scully shrugged her shoulders--maybe she *had* told Megan her name and just forgotten. That must've been it. She locked the door and crawled into bed. She turned on the radio, flipping through until she found the soft-rock station in the middle of a song. Her exhausted body quickly surrended to a deep and dreamless sleep. She slept better that night than any since she'd been diagnosed.  
  
The song played on in the background as Scully drifted off. "And maybe empty and weightless, then maybe I'll find some peace tonight...You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie. You're in the arms of the angel, may you find some comfort here. So tired of the straight line and everywhere you turn, vultures and thieves and at your back...Don't make no difference, escape one last time...You're in the arms of the angel, may you find some comfort here."  
  


* * *  
  


The doorbell rang once, then again. The third time was more insistent. Scully rubbed her eyes, trying to clear her mind of a sleepy fog. She grabbed her robe and stumbled to the door, calling, "I'm coming. Hold on, I'm coming!" She opened the door and looked up at Mulder, confused. "I thought you were in Pennsylvania."  
  
"Well, hello to you, too. I..." Mulder trailed off. What was he supposed to say? He had a dream, he thought she needed him, so he drove back from an official investigation to check on her? "I missed you," he said, trying to make it sound teasing.  
  
"I missed you, too," Scully murmured, stepping aside so Mulder could come in. "I had the weirdest dream."  
  
"Me, too," Mulder said, settling on the couch as Scully went into the kitchen to start the coffee. "Tell me about yours."  
  
Scully hesitated, unwilling to share such an intimate evening (even if it had been a dream), with anyone, especially Mulder. He would probably turn it into an excuse for a lecture on the paranormal. "It was wild," she said minimally, pouring the coffee. She took a mug back in and handed it to Mulder.  
  
"I'll tell you what's wild, Scully," Mulder commented. "That purple nail polish."  
  
Scully looked down at her hands with disbelieving eyes. It hadn't been a dream, then. Megan had been real. She dismissed it with a happy smile and turned to Mulder. "What was your dream about?"  
  
Mulder took a sip of the coffee. "This angel came to me and told me..." he paused, embarrassed. "She told me that you need me, that I should come back here. And...and that..." He gathered up his courage. "And that you need to know that I love you."  
  
Tears sprang to Scully's eyes and she leaned over, hugging Mulder gently. "Thank you," she whispered. "I did need to hear that."  
  
"Want to know the funniest thing?" Mulder asked as Scully snuggled up next to him.  
  
"What's that?" she asked, her eyes slipping closed as she inhaled his familiar scent.  
  
"She told me her name."  
  
"What was it?" Scully teased. "Aphrodite? Athena?"  
  
"Megan," Mulder said reverently. "And she had the most beautiful green eyes with flecks of silver..."  
  
THE END  
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